


It's funnier in Enochian

by Jeaven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Brotherly Bonding, Dean Takes Care Of Sam, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, PTSD, Post-Hell Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7883962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeaven/pseuds/Jeaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his wall broke, Sam starts to speak Enochain when hurt or reminded of his time in the cage. Good thing his big brother is there to help him, no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's funnier in Enochian

**It's funnier in Enochian**

The first time it happens, Dean barely notices because he's too busy fighting for Sam's life.

They're hunting a werewolf and it gets to Sam before Dean's bullet can get to its heart.

He watches the claws slash through his little brother's chest in slow motion, he's frozen and can't do anything except panic. Sam drops to the ground like a lifeless weight, Dean kills the werewolf and rushes to Sammy's side before the monster even takes its last breath.

"Sammy?" Dean whispers frantically, grabbing Sam's shoulders and shaking him, desperately trying to get a reaction out of him. When Sam doesn't respond Dean's hunter instincts kick in and he starts to work on saving his brother's life.

He pulls Sam's shirt up and gets nauseous when he sees the amount of blood that's coming out of his brother's body. He pushes the upcoming panic away and focuses on the task before him.

First, put pressure on the wound.

Their first aid kit is back in the car so Dean has to work with what he's got here in the middle of he woods. Without thinking about it, Dean rips his shirt to shreds and wraps it tightly around the deep gashes in Sam's chest. It does very little to stop the blood flow, and Dean can't help but tear up at the sight of Sam laying there motionless while his condition gets worse and worse.

Dean can't even call 911, because the people at the ambulance are most likely leviathans. They're still way too close to Sioux Falls General Hospital.  
The only choice Dean has is stitching Sam up himself at the nearest motel.

Said little brother groans in pain right in that moment and twitches lightly. Dean is immediately alert. "Sammy?" He asks with a breaking voice. "Hey, c'mon you gotta wake up for me."

He frames Sam's head with his hands and patiently coaxes Sam out of unconsciousness.

Sammy's eyes are unfocused when he finally opens them, and Dean can't blame him. With the amount of pain he has to be in Dean is glad he's awake at all.

"You with me?" Dean asks. Sam takes a moment, but eventually his eyes clear a bit.

"We have to get back to the motel so that I can stitch you up," Dean explains to him. "Think you can walk back to the car?"

Sam frowns, pain scarring his face but he nods despite the agony and Dean's so fucking proud of him. Somehow Sam manages to get up and, heavily leaning on Dean, stumble back that mile to the car. They're quiet, except for an occasional grunt or whisper from Sam. Sometimes Dean thinks his little brother is trying to say something but what comes out of Sam's mouth aren't words, only strange noises and Dean chooses to ignore it.

Sam's face is completely white, drained of all blood, when they reach the car and he practically collapses into the passenger seat.

Dean can't help but glance at Sam every few seconds as he lets the Impala's engine roar to life. His heart races with pure panic. The wound is worse than anything Dean has had to deal with in the last months but his brother has to be okay because he can't lose him.

Sam lets his head fall onto the glass and his eyelids flutter shut. There's cold sweat on his forehead and Dean grits his teeth.

 _Not now_. He pleads with whoever entity is listening to him. _I'm begging you not now._

Dean races back to the motel, precious seconds running past him. Somehow Sam is still awake when they arrive, but Dean can tell he's pretty much out of it.

"Come on," he whispers. "I'm gonna make it okay, you just gotta keep fighting."

Sam probably doesn't hear him anymore but Dean keeps up his steady stream of reassuring words.

Once Sam is laying on his bed at the motel Dean is practically flying. He gets the first aid kit, strips Sam's chest bare and starts to work on the wound.

He sterilizes it and washes all the dried blood away. Sam flinches and whimpers. Dean's heart clenches as he tries to soothe him.

Then the stitches come, and Sam isn't so unmoving and quiet anymore.

Dean has to practically hold his little brother down as he flinches and thrashes, all while mumbling strange noises that seem to mean something more than _hurt_.

"Sorry," Dean whispers. "But I need to stitch it."

Sam shakes his head, continues to whisper things Dean can't understand all while staring at him with wide eyes. Dean figures that Sam's trying to tell him something, but his little brother's life is at stake here and Dean doesn't really have the time to chat.

When Sam finally gets better and wakes up a day later Dean doesn't ask about it and Sam doesn't bring it up.

 

* * *

 

 

The second time it happens Dean almost freaks.

They're hunting a wendigo in the outskirts of Seattle and it gets out of hand really fast. They're in an abandoned mental hospital, which the wendigo apparently decided to live in. Sam and Dean search the place with flashlights, and for a whole lot of time nothing happens. Dean begins to wonder if he should pretend to be a monster to scare Sam (the place is creepy enough) when there's suddenly a loud screech and all hell breaks loose.

The wendigo appears out of nowhere and lunges at Dean with incredible speed, but Sam's flare gun is faster and it goes up in flames right before Dean's eyes. He turns around to give Sam the thumbs up, but freezes instantly in his movement.

They're _everywhere_. The wendigo they had just killed apparently had a family, and it had followed them into this room.

"Dean." Sam says, his voice on the verge of fear and Dean understands. They have to to something, _now_. He scans the room with his eyes; they're on the first floor in some sort of dining hall and the wendigos are between them and the door.

One of the monsters moves, Sam shoots and misses but it's enough to draw it back for the moment. A plan forms in Dean's head that seems way too dangerous at first, but he looks at his little brother in front of six, maybe seven wendigos and sees him getting ripped to shreds, dying painfully while calling Dean's name.

That makes the decision for him.

"Cover me," Dean whispers. He doesn't wait for Sam to nod and hurries over to the wall, where a few old gas lamps are. His movement provokes the monsters and he hears their claws scratch over the wooden floor and Sam's flare gun being fired in response. Dean hurries and destroys the lamps so that the gas can flow out.

"The window!" Dean yells and then runs.

It's a close call. They barely make it to the exit; a wendigo gets Dean's arm just when he reaches out for the light switch. The pain flares through him like lightening, but his plan works out. The furniture Sam has set on fire with his flare gun and the gas mix exactly like Dean wants them to and the whole room explodes as Sam and Dean jump out of the window.

But it's close, and as it turns out it's too close.

They hit the ground hard and Dean groans in pain as his injured arm collides with concrete.

"Hey, Sammy?" he mutters. "Can you help a guy out here?"

Sam doesn't answer him and Dean has to steady himself on his bloody arm to turn around.

He lays an eye on his little brother and immediately curses. The length of Sam's leg is burned and bloody, the explosion must've gotten faster to Sam than their escape. But worst of all, Sam is unmoving.

Dean scrambles and is at Sam's side in under a second. He turns his little brother's face around so that Sammy is looking at him, but his eyes don't see him. They don't seem to be looking at anything.

"Sammy?" Dean shakes him. "Sammy can you hear me?"

Sam blinks, still staring at nothing and Dean notices how his baby brother is shivering. Sam starts to mumble something and Dean tries but he can't understand him. There are undoubtedly words coming out of his brother's mouth but they're strange and foreign and nothing like Dean's ever heard.

And Dean starts panicking because for the first time in forever he's at a loss. He doesn't know what to do with a hurt, disorientated and scared little brother.

"What is it?" he asks gently, but Sam only answers in those strange sounds, still not looking directly at Dean.

The hunter in Dean is calm now; the room is in ruins, the wendigos are dead and the rest of the house begins to burn down too. The case is closed.

But the big brother is close to really freaking out. Sam's leg isn't as bad as it looks - the kid has had worse, really - but Sam is shaking, flinches whenever there's a sudden move or sound and Dean can see tears in the eyes of his kid.

"Sammy please." He can't help but raise his voice, even though it startles Sam. He's desperate, dammit. "You have to give me somethin' man."

Sam answers him, but still it doesn't make any sense in Dean's brain. He only knows his little brother is totally out of it.

The house is now starting to really catch fire and Dean realizes they can't stay here. He has to at least get Sam back to the car.

Dean reaches out and tentatively touches Sammy's shoulder. Sam immediately flinches and scrambles to get away from him, but as much as the broken whimpers that spill from his mouth hurt Dean's heart, he has to get Sam away from the fire.

The steady stream of strange noises shakes when Dean hauls Sam up, they get pleading and something beyond scared.

Dean still doesn't know what to do, so he starts to mumble reassuring words and whispers how Sammy was safe with him. Talking like that usually does the trick with his little brother but this time, Sam is too far gone.

Dean starts to walk, Sam's arm around his shoulders and through some miracle Sam's feet help him.

Somewhere along the way Dean has to tune Sam's agonized whimpers out because he can't stand to listen to them any longer. His fingers tighten around Sam's waist, as if he could reach his little brother in whatever world he is in right now.

Back at the car Dean lets him slump into the passenger seat.

Dean should drive straight to the motel, he knows that. But he can't help himself. He touches Sam's cheek with his fingers, steadies his head with the other hand and starts talking.

If he's honest with himself, he's rather begging. Begging Sam to come back to him and stop scaring the hell out of him.  
It takes a while, and every second feels like an eternity to Dean, but eventually the clouds covering Sam's eyes leave and his little brother is with him again.

"You okay?" Dean asks him and Sam answers with a dry: "Someone burned my leg."

Dean laughs out of pure relief.

Sam still seems a bit spooked, but he insists to check Dean's arm he himself has completely forgotten. Sam doesn't offer any explanation to what happened and Dean, again, doesn't ask.

Mostly because he's afraid of the answer.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean so desperately wanted to believe that Sam, despite all the literal hell in his head, would be okay. But by the third time it happens he can't ignore it anymore.

It's a whole lot of bad luck cut with Dean's recklessness that gets them stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere. The weather systems warned them that the snow would be coming but Dean didn't listen and now the Impala is stuck.

The roads are dangerously icy in this kind of weather; Dean had been just a tiny bit too fast and the car had severed off the road and into a tree stump. The snow has the Impala completely surrounded and Dean can't get forwards nor backwards. They'll have to wait for help to find them.

Which can take a few hours.

Dean sighs. This is going to suck - he can already feel the air in the car get chilly.

He turns around to Sam, almost waiting for a comment on how he should've listened to all the weather warnings.

But Sam doesn't say anything, just sighs, slumps back into the passengers seat and let's his head rest against the window. Dean sees his rigid shoulders but mistakes them as a sign of Sam being pissed off. Which isn't even that unlikely considering Dean is a little annoyed himself.

Being stuck in the woods with no help available for the next hour or so just isn't fun.

Dean gets blankets out of the trunk and has to practically dig his way through the snow to get around the car and the strong wind blows him even more of the white stuff into his face. When he's back in the driver's seat, his jeans are damp and cold. It's hardly a life-threatening situation - Dean has already informed the authorities and help is on the way - but he curses anyway.

Sam barely blinks an eye when Dean returns with the blankets and holds two of them out to him.

"We gotta keep ourselves warm until they arrive with their super-machines and get us outta this white hell," Dean says, trying to sound nonchalant.

Sam doesn't react, doesn't even take the blankets. Irritated, Dean turns around. Sam is still staring stoically through the window but now Dean sees clearly that something is wrong. There's just too much tension in his shoulders.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asks hesitantly and then he sees Sam's hands. His little brother is pressing onto that scar again. His heart sinks as it becomes clear to him what's happening. Somewhere deep, deep down in him he doesn't want to deal with Sam's hell because it's scaring the crap out of him. But he can't let Sam alone (it's just not in him) and automatically shifts into big brother mode.

"Hey Sammy, look at me," he demands, soft but persistent.

Sam takes a moment, blinks and apparently has to gather the strength to move. The look in his eyes breaks Dean's heart. They're wide, panicked, already a bit unfocused. Dean knows Sam is slipping away from him, getting sucked into his memories of hell.

"Stay with me Sammy," Dean pleads. "Talk to me."

Sam swallows, his lips are shaking and his speech a bit slurred. "He... He's cold." Dean frowns and he adds: "Everyone always thinks he's hot but..." A shudder engulfs his whole body and Dean understands.

 _Goddammit_.

Dean always wanted to smash that bastard's face, but it's times like these when his rage sparks again. His little brother shouldn't be dealing with this.

Sam closes his eyes for a moment. Dean is instantly alert again and grabs him by the shoulders. "Sam-"

Sam shakes his head. "Dean, I can't."

And that's when Dean knows he can't escape it anymore. Sam is losing his fight against the devil. Without thinking, he wraps both arms around Sam's chest and drags his little brother closer to him.

It's an awkward fit, the space in the car is tight and Sam's freakishly long legs are folded at a weird angle. But Dean's touch somehow always managed to get to Sam even in the darkest of moments and Dean hopes his little brother will still feel him when Lucifer has the upper hand again. Damn him if this - him leaned against the window and Sam halfway in his lap, his little brother's back on his chest - is cuddling. He will cuddle Sam to death if that's what's necessary to help him.

Sam shivers against him.

"It's okay," Dean whispers into his ear even though it isn't.

Sam doesn't answer. Dean knows it's because he's too far gone already and wraps his arms tighter around his brother.

Not long after that Sam whimpers for the first time. Dean grits his teeth and forces himself to remain calm as not to spook Sam further. Watching Sam suffer is a completely own kind of hell for him but he can't do anything.

When Sam opens his mouth it's like a sucker-punch to the gut for Dean when he starts making those strange noises again. This time he doesn't freak as much. He sits there and watches his little brother flinch and shake and falls apart because he can't handle seeing Sam like this. This time he also figures it out.

Sam was for over a hundred years in the cage. It almost makes sense how he speaks Enochian now. Dean supposes it would be a miracle if Sam didn't. Still, it's so fundamentally wrong to hear his little brother not speak, but beg, yell and cry in the old language of the angels.

Dean wants to rip someone's lungs out.

But he merely murmurs reassurances into Sammy's ears and makes sure he doesn't get any colder.

Sam's episode lasts for about fifteen minutes. It feels like an eternity.

When the four blankets finally pay off and Sam's warm enough to snap out of the icy flames of the cage Dean has unconsciously fisted his left hand in Sam's jacket.

"Dean?" Sam asks in a raspy voice and tries to sit up.

Dean pulls him down again. "Sssh, don't move," he shushes. "It's still about zero degrees out here, remember?"

Sam frowns. "What happened?"

Dean feels the rapid thud of Sam's heart beneath his fingers on Sam's right wrist and sighs. "We hit a tree. Now we're stuck and you had a flashback."

Sam's eyes clear again and now he's looking down, almost as if in shame. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Dean answers gently. "You don't have to. Nothing's happened."

Sam looks at him as if he doesn't really believe that and Dean breaks.

"It's just... You scared the fuck out of me, man. Just started talking in... in that angel language and I couldn't understand you, didn't know what was wrong..." Dean shuts up then because normally he doesn't lay his crap on Sam.

His brother's face is a little more closed off now. "They only talked in Enochian," he says tightly. "A few years in and I didn't remember English."

There are tears in Dean's eyes and he furiously blinks them away. He shouldn't cry, dammit. But it was always hard for him to hear about Sam's hell. Still, he's glad when his little brother does talk and promises to himself that he's going to make this work. He doesn't need to understand Sam to help him.

Just like now, as Sam silently pulls the blankets closer to himself because he still feels Lucifer and Dean hugs him tighter.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean eventually does learn how to react but it never, ever gets easy. Dean can't foresee what reminds Sam of the cage and more often that not it's the small things - the smell of raw flesh, cold temperatures and so on - that sets off one of Sam's flashbacks. Just like that one time in Oklahoma. They're in a small restaurant celebrating the newest successful hunt when the waitress accidentally knocks over Sam's cup of tea.

It happens so fast Dean can't even fully get a hold of the situation before his big brother senses go off. The chick is apologizing hastily but he doesn't pay attention to her. Sam's staring at the boiling hot water that begins to soak his shirt and jeans without moving. He doesn't even flinch when the tea hits the bare skin on his arms.

Dean doesn't need to see the panicked look in Sam's eyes to knows what's about to happen. He's on his feet instantly, bolts around the table and crouches next to Sam, both hands framing his little brother's face.

With a sinking feeling in his heart Dean realizes Sam is already slipping away from him, and fast. He doesn't have much time but by now he's used to that.

"I'm here, Sammy," he soothes his little brother. "I'm here and you're safe."

Sam doesn't react. His eyes stare at Dean with wide, deep fear in them and they're losing focus. Dean knows Sam doesn't see the restaurant anymore.

He dully hears the waitress still talking and apologizing but he ignores it. Sam's taking up all his priorities. He shifts Sam a bit to the side on the bench so that he can sit next to him.

Sammy's already shaking, so Dean lays an arm around him. He tugs him close to his chest and can't help but tighten his grip every time Sam whimpers.

By now the waitress has noticed something's wrong with Sam. She interrupts her monologue and blinks at the brothers holding each other on the bench.

"What-" She starts to reach out for Sam. Dean is having none of that though and bats her hand away fast.

"Leave him alone!" he hisses at her and she is so surprised that she not only steps back but shuts up too.

Dean shifts his attention back to Sam. He knows there's nothing much he can do; he has to wait until his brother is able to hear him again. He can help Sam way better in the aftermath but that doesn't stop his heart from aching.

At his heart, he's still always the big brother. And the worse Sam feels, the worse Dean feels too. It's as simple as that.

He flinches when the first words in Enochian leave Sam's mouth. His baby brother is pleading his attacker to stop hurting him. Dean doesn't need to understand Sam to know that.

A few seconds later, Sam thrashes. His arm wrenches out of Dean's grip and starts to attack the first thing it finds: his big brother's leg.

"Jesus!" Dean grits his teeth (Sam has got some strength, dammit). "Easy Sammy."

He gets his arm back under control and holds him in an iron-like grip while the muscles twitch with panic-induced energy.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispers because he can't help himself. "It's gonna be okay."

He keeps up a steady stream of those words until Sam slowly comes back to him. He looks around confused like he always does after those attacks and with this Dean can deal.

"Sammy look at me," Dean demands and his brother slowly raises his eyes.

The kid is exhausted, Dean can tell. Which isn't that surprising considering he just spend the last minutes fighting Dean's embrace.

This time, Sam doesn't ask what happened. The look on Dean's face tells him.

Suddenly, a second cup of tea is placed on the table - but this time it's one of those paper cups with plastic lids for takeaway. The waitress smiles at him.

"PTSD?" She asks, voice calm and understanding.

Dean nods because technically it's true.

She eyes Sam, who's still too exhausted to pay attention to her, shyly and adds "I just wanted to thank him for his services."

Dean doesn't correct her. Sam did save her ass along with everyone else's. If she thinks he's a soldier and a hero she's damn right.

"I know it can't be easy."

Dean sighs sadly. "He's had it rough."

The waitress nods and lingers for a moment longer, eyes on Sam before she leaves them alone.

Sam leaves Dean's embrace and slowly sits up. He looks at his wet clothes, swallows and turns around to Dean. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Dean lies instantly. Sammy has enough problems and he doesn't want him to worry about things like this.

Sam doesn't buy it for one second. "Dean-"

"You didn't destroy the place, okay? So everything's good," Dean answers a bit snippy. He hates it when Sammy just has to know the things that only hurt him.

Sam looks at him with his lips in a wry smile. "He used to drown me in boiling water. Sometimes the shore was just a meter away... I tried so hard to get there, but I couldn't." His voice breaks and he swallows. "So I know I must've kicked you or something."

Dean's annoyance breaks instantly. "Sorry," he whispers. "I didn't..." He trails off because he doesn't know what to say. He wants to make it better, he wants to make Sam okay but he can't, not this time.

Sam doesn't hold it against him. "Can we go?" he asks hopefully.

Dean could never deny the kid anything when he looked at him like that.

"Sure, Sammy. Anything you need."


End file.
